As Rob and Harry drew near the disabled automobile, Joyce stepped out into the muddy road and hailed them.

"You couldn't stop long enough to hitch on here and haul us out, could you, Mr. Holliday?" he asked ingratiatingly, as Rob stopped. "We can't get her started neither way. It's kind of mean to ask a fellow to onhitch, but there's accidents happen to all of us, ain't there?"

Rob glanced at the car. Its front wheels were stuck fast in the mudhole; moreover, the bank of the slough was so soft and deep that Joyce could not get power enough into the wheels to force the machine either forward or backward. Rob watched him twice crank the engine and throw open the lever. The car shook violently, but refused to move. It was safe where it was for some time.

"You ought to get a couple of heavy rails or fence-posts to pry up the front wheels and run her across."

"That's all right, but I don't see any lying round here, do you?" Joyce snapped angrily. Then he added in a more pleasant tone, "I'll make it worth your while to put your team in here. I've got business in town that can't wait."

"I'm sorry; so have I," answered Rob.

"Wouldn't twenty-five make it up to you? Here it is." Joyce pulled the gold pieces from his pocket.

Rob shook his head. "Business first, pleasure afterward," he said, as the team started ahead. "I'm late as it is. You can get a couple of planks over at the ranch yonder."

A little way down the road Rob glanced back. "Now for the last lap," he said. "If that motor will only be kind enough to sulk for half an hour longer, I think we can just about beat him, her or it by a neck. Hurray!"

"He hasn't started yet," Harry announced from time to time, looking back to see what progress their rival was making. "Why can't he stick where he is until we get there? The moment he manages to get his machine out of the mud he'll simply open everything and rush past us, and we'll not be in the race at all."

"Not much. He'd bust the whole machine wide open if he struck one of these sharp rocks going fast. No, he'll wait until he gets pretty near town, where the roads are smooth, before he hits her up to top speed. So here is where we whirl in and do our level best."

Rob merely touched one of the ponies with the whip, and it was enough. Both ponies started on a run.

"O Rob! They're running away!" gasped Harry.

"Don't worry. I'd hate to see them drop, but I'm going to get there first, or bust. Where's Joyce now?"

Harry turned and knelt on the seat of the swaying buggy. "I don't see him. Yes, there he is! He's started! O Bobs! If we could only go faster!"

Rob did not answer. All his attention was on the team. How they could run! With ears back and tails stretched out, they dashed on; behind them swung the buggy, bounding over mudholes and across stones and ruts. Faster and faster the ponies flew.

Not daring to look back, Harry clung to the seat with both hands. Behind them came the continual blare of the horn as the motor car crept up on them, drew nearer and nearer, until, as they scrambled up the last hill, the mad clatter of the engine seemed almost in their ears. At the top of the slope, with the main street stretching before them, Rob showed no mercy. With the reins wrapped round his hands, he sat forward on the edge of the seat and urged the horses on.

Down the main street they went, missing a wagon, swerving past men who ran out to stop the runaway team, and who then, seeing the motor car behind, understood, and shouted applause. In a moment the quiet street was in an uproar of excitement. Shopkeepers and customers, corner idlers and school children, old men and women, ran pell-mell after the galloping team and the motor car.

Of three men on horseback who joined in the chase, one was Garnett. He had reached town about an hour before, but had not wished to put up his horse until Harry and Rob should come in. As soon as he saw them flying down the street, he rode up, and, by keeping close to the side of the buggy, helped to block the way to those behind.

As Rob pulled over to the side of the street toward the land office, Garnett shouted to Harry, "Jump for the door! Jump!"

Quick as thought, he reached down from his saddle, caught the girl round the waist as she leaned forward, and swung her from the buggy. He swung himself after her, and sprang up the steps to the office door just time to get between Harry and the sheepman, who reached for the doorknob at the same moment. But instead of all three piling into the room together, they merely fell against the door. For the door was locked.

Trembling with exhaustion and excitement, Harry felt her hand slip as Joyce tried to push her out of the way.

"No, you don't, Joyce!" Garnett said roughly, thrusting his arm in front of the sheepman. "You didn't get here first."

"This is a put-up job!" began Joyce angrily.

"I bet!" was Garnett's grim answer, which brought a laugh from the crowd that had gathered about the steps to see what would happen.

"Let me into this office!" Joyce ordered.

"The clerk didn't leave the key with me."

"This isn't your affair. Get away from that door!"

"Get away yourself."

"Perhaps I had better go," Harry said in a low tone to Garnett. "I can come back in the morning."

"Not early enough to get what you're after," said Garnett, glancing down at her. "You can hang on a while, can't you, until Rob gets back? He's gone to find out about opening this place. You don't want to have to stand here all night."

"All night?"

She turned a dismayed face on him. Garnett gazed into it a moment without answering. Never had he seen any girl look as Harry looked now. She was spattered with mud from hair to shoes. She had lost both hat and hairpins on that wild drive, and her brown curls lay in disorder about her neck. Her cheeks were white; even her lips were pale with excitement and weariness. But in her eyes shone the exultation of victory and on her lips was a smile.

"I can stand here a week if I have to," she said. "But I hope I shan't have to."

"You've got to get into this place first if you want that homestead. Here comes Rob now. Perhaps he's corralled the clerk."

Rob elbowed his way through the crowd that was pressing up to stare at Harry. "No use," he said. "The office won't be opened until nine o'clock to-morrow morning. I saw the clerk just as he was leaving town to go to a wedding, and wild horses couldn't have held him. Are you onto your job, sis?"

"I guess so. Listen. What is he saying?"

Joyce had retreated to the sidewalk. He was not afraid of a fight or unused to one, but for various reasons he hesitated to try to get possession of the door by force.

The jokes of the crowd were becoming more and more irritating to him, however, and suddenly he called out, "I'll give twenty-five dollars to any one who'll break that girl's hold on the door there!"

"And I'll give fifty swift kicks to any one who tries it!" cried Garnett.

"Wouldn't the young lady like a chair?" a voice said at Harry's elbow.

Turning, Harry saw Smoot, the hotel clerk, leaning over the railing of the porch with a chair in his hand.

"That's good of you!" she exclaimed gratefully. "I didn't realize how tired I am."

"Hungry, too, I guess," suggested Smoot. "If you're going to stick it out all night, you'll need some good chuck to hold you."

"I expect I shall," agreed Harry with a tired little laugh.

"Say, Smoot," suggested Rob, "can't you go over to Kenny's and tell 'em to send round a tray of grub?"

"All right. Anything in particular you'd like, Miss Holliday?"

"A gallon or two of water; I'm so thirsty! But don't you want to eat your own suppers?" she said, turning to Rob and Garnett.

"Shucks! We don't care when we eat," Garnett assured her. "We'll starve out this bunch first, anyhow." Then, in a lower tone, he added, "When Joyce sees you're game, he'll let up."

"I guess I'm game."

"Of course you are. I saw it that first time I spoke to you. Remember?"

"On the train?" She laughed. "Indeed I do. And you told me I'd stay. Honestly, I didn't expect to then."

"No, you didn't. But you stick to what you tackle. I kind of felt that once you'd camped in Idaho it'd get a strangle hold on you somehow."

"Well, it has. Any one seeing me hanging to a doorknob all night must realize that I like Idaho pretty well." She shivered involuntarily as she spoke.

"You're half froze. As soon as they come with that grub we'll send for a blanket."

"There comes the food now. And Mrs. Kenny. Isn't she the best, though? And I look like—I don't know what."

"Like a sure-enough fighter, and that's just what Mrs. Kenny likes."

The sun had set and it was beginning to grow chilly. Most of the crowd were drifting away. With a pot of coffee in one hand, a basket of food in the other, and a big shawl over her arm, Mrs. Kenny came sailing down the street, exchanging pungent remarks with the townsfolk as she passed; she was much like a frigate going to the rescue with guns unmasked.

"For the land sakes, girlie," she exclaimed, "is it really you? Well, you're the right stuff! Howdy, Joyce? Looks like you wasn't in this deal. How about it?"

"It's early yet," answered Joyce sourly. "Wait till four o'clock to-morrow morning."

"And if I ain't a heap sight duller than I think, you'll be some tired yourself by that time, settin' all night on the hard side of that stair-step. Better go git you some supper, you and the new herder you got there."

Joyce growled something unintelligible in reply. He held a low-toned conversation with the herder, and after a moment they walked away.

The minute they were out of sight, Mrs. Kenny caught Harry's arm. "Come on, now," she said quickly. "This is your time. You come round to the hotel the back way and get cleaned up and rested. Joyce won't dream you'll go like this, first dash out of the box. And if he did come back, why, Garnett here ain't never filed, and he can hold the door like it's for himself until you come back. Come on, now."

"That's right," insisted Garnett. "Mrs. Kenny is sure right."

When Harry came back, washed, brushed, fed, and rested, she felt prepared for anything. Joyce had not returned, and the three, Harry, Rob, and Garnett, felt certain that he had accepted defeat. Still, it would not do to run any chances, and they prepared to watch through the night.

Rob had brought some old boxes from the grocery store, and with them he built a little fire in the road; there, as the long, chilly hours passed, it glowed cheeringly. He and Garnett took turns watching the door and the fire.

But toward morning they unconsciously relaxed. Rob with his head on his knees, dozed beside the smouldering fire; Garnett, stretched near the door, nodded; and Harry, wrapped in the warm shawl, leaned her head against the back of her chair and tried to realize that morning was very near. Then suddenly she started, cried out, and clutched the doorknob just as Joyce, in stocking feet, slid swiftly across the porch.

Even as her call broke from her lips, Garnett threw himself forward, caught Joyce by the leg, and brought him to the floor. Then, dropping his hold, he sprang to his feet and stood in front of Harry, ready for what might come. Rob, too, had waked at the first sound of trouble, and had easily frustrated the herder's somewhat faint-hearted attempt to help out the sheepman.

Harry, Rob, and Garnett stood with their backs against the door, prepared for anything. But Joyce had wrenched his knee in falling and, unable to put up a good fight, limped away with angry threats.

At seven o'clock Mrs. Kenny appeared with breakfast. With her came "Old Man" Kenny and Smoot to take the place of Rob and Garnett while they went to the hotel to eat.

At nine o'clock the clerk opened the office door and the little party passed inside. After all the excitement and suspense, the mingled hope and fear through which she had lived in the last twenty-four hours, Harry was surprised at the calmness with which she went through the necessary business of signing the papers and taking the oath.

She was in a way, the calmest of all the little crowd which had collected to see the end of this exciting race and to take a good look at the girl who had "put one over hog-dollar Joyce." Every new settler means much to those already at work building homes in a new territory and almost every one who traded in town knew Rob Holliday and had heard of the hard work he and "the girl" were doing on his homestead.

The news of the race had of course run through the town and when the land office opened for Harry's filing both windows were full of heads and the porch held a crowd of complimentary size.

A low but constant whisper of explanation accompanied the gray-haired registrar's voice as he ran through the forms with Harry. When she had signed her name for the last time he carefully took off his spectacles, looked into her flushed and happy face with a kindly quizzical smile and held out his hand. "I don't know when I've filed anybody that pleased me like this has," he said; "If you keep a going on your hundred'n sixty like you came after it, young lady, you're liable to have a pretty first class ranch by time you prove up."

A laugh of appreciation from the listening group approved this remark and the many hands that shook hers as she passed down to the street assured Harry of the good will that went with her to the work before her.

They spent the forenoon in town, doing errands and, visiting with the acquaintances who had heard the story of Joyce's defeat and came around to hear the particulars. Mrs. Kenny gave them an early lunch and after thanking her for her share in the victorious siege, they started back to the ranch, Garnett going with them in order to take the team and buggy back to Hailey.

They were tired from lack of sleep and the long nervous strain, yet they were too elated with the sense of the victory they had won to let it go at that. They must talk it over and laugh at the fears they had endured, even if now and then an irrepressible yawn would sandwich in between the jokes.

"I bet I could stretch a mile if I didn't haff to walk back to meet my horse," Garnett confessed.

"And I'd drop out at the Hyslop ranch and sleep all the afternoon if I didn't hate to ask you two to wait and take me home." Harry's infectious laughter drew a smile from two riders who passed them coming in from the hills. Their felt hats pulled low over their eyes, their sunburned faces powdered with white dust, no one recognized them at first as they drew off the trail to let the buggy pass. But they touched their hats to Harry and glanced back.

"Why, hello Lance," Bob exclaimed. "I didn't recognize you and Rudy for the dust that's choked us."

The two dust-covered riders smiled. "Ain't you gettin' back from town early?" Lance inquired.

"Not so early as you fellas are gettin' in late." Garnett interposed. "The show's over."

"It sounded like you'd been seein' something pretty good," Lance admitted; "There warn't no notice over to Soldier of any show."

"Oh it warn't that sort. Just one of these here amytoor doin's. Charades. You know. Nobody knowed what he was going to say 'til he was sayin' it——"

"Or doing it," Rob added.

"Must of been some show," Rudy Batts ventured gravely, his hazel eyes very quiet and watchful for the joke behind all this banter.

"Some! A whole lot," Garnett said warmly. "More 'specially when that there Joyce, him bein' the villyan, crope up and thought he'd put one over the lady there."

"Sounds like it might be interesting if we was to hear it," said Lance. "We got the vilyan, but who's the hero?"

"There were two," Harry put in quickly. "Two heroes and a damsel in distress, men at arms, a throng of brave retainers, a noble dame who came to the rescue. Oh, it was wonderful. You tell them, boys!"

As the story was told there were nods and growls of approval from the two young men, homesteaders themselves, who had suffered more than once from inroads of sheep and cattle owned by certain high-handed stockmen.

"It's a big wedge you druv in between Joyce and his land grabbin', Miss Holliday," Lance told her; "and luck was sure with you when you took out after him."

"Spunk, I'd say," Garnett suggested as they all prepared to move along.

"Spunk! That's right." Rudy declared. "If there was a little more of that up our way mebbe we'd get busy and pull something that'd dehorn animals like Joyce for good and give the rest of us a chance to feed and water."

"This'll be the best news on the prairie this year," was Lance's farewell word.

"Any chance to board at your place for a while, Holliday?" Garnett asked, and, as Rob and Harry looked at him questioningly, he explained. "Why, your sister there will be cookin' and makin' cake for a month now to entertain the committee on congratulations that'll be hikin' over."

"I certainly owe you a cake, Garnett," said Harry. "You can order any kind you like."

So they talked as the day waned and they climbed steadily higher until Harry, gazing forward along the line of the road as it wound through flowering rabbit brush and summer's grass across the foothills, saw again the snowy peaks of the Sawtooth looking down at her.

Was it only two months ago that she had followed the same road into the unknown, curious and interested as a child? To-day she went where it led, happy and content, and ambitious too. She realized that it was not child's play that awaited her this time at the end of the road; it was woman's work—But she welcomed it for she had become a woman.